Reckless Beat Box Set #2

by Summers, Eden

  “Whatever,” he muttered, striding for the dance floor.

  “Wait.” Her voice rose. “There’s one more thing.”

  His chest pounded, punching his heartrate out of rhythm. “What?” He turned to her, finding her features softened, her eyes wary.

  “How’s he doing?” She tilted her head to the right, almost imperceptibly. She didn’t need to say Ryan’s name for him to know who she was referring to.

  “Temperamental.”

  She winced. “And what about Julie? Any news from her?”

  “Apart from a text message this morning, I’m not sure. I try not to pry. And to be honest, whenever I bring up the topic his frustration grows to the point where I have concerns for my safety.” He shot her a half-hearted smile, then wiped it from his face when she frowned.

  “Don’t do that. Don’t make fun of him. He’s not handling the separation well.”

  “Right…” Like he didn’t already know.

  “Just keep a good eye on him for me. Please.”

  Sean couldn’t pinpoint why her request pissed him off, but it did. Bad. He’d had his own shit to deal with. And it wasn’t like he’d been snubbing Ryan. The guy had taken over his home for the last three weeks.

  “I’m not a babysitter, Leah. Do your own damn snooping if you’re so worried.”

  Her eyes widened and before she could give him a serve of her attitude, he strode toward Sasha, trying to withhold a shudder with each approaching step.

  “Ready for another round?”

  She grinned, all charm. “Always.”

  She sashayed to the iPod sitting on the far edge of the dance floor and pressed play on the track. As the music began to fill the room, a knock sounded at the door.

  One of the guards reached for the handle, pulling the bulky frame open and allowing a suit-clad man who appeared to be in his late thirties to stride in, a briefcase at his side.

  “Can I help you?” Leah approached, her professional smile slipping into place.

  The room fell quiet as Sasha hastened to pause the music. The bodyguard widened his stance, stopping the man from entering the room.

  “I’m looking for Ryan Bennett.” The man’s features matched Leah’s—friendly, professional, with an underlying bite that couldn’t truly be described in words.

  “Who’s asking?” Ryan raised his voice as he broke away from the group, Mason, Mitch, and Blake following close behind.

  Sean joined in, all five of them striding toward the door and the unmistakable air of apprehension. Dread grew in his gut, and if the look on Ryan’s face was any indication, his friend was shitting bricks, too.

  The suit straightened. “I’m—”

  “My wife sent you, didn’t she?” Ryan spoke over the top of him, the usual charm of the rhythm guitarist shot to hell. “What do you want?” His fists balled at his sides, his posture stiffened.

  Oh, shit. “How ‘bout you back off a little, bro.” Sean quickened his pace and gripped Ryan’s upper arm in warning, only to have it brushed off.

  “Who are you?”

  The man cocked a brow, pausing as if waiting to be interrupted again. When silence reigned, the entire room now focused on the stranger, he raised his briefcase and pulled out a large yellow envelope. “I’m a process server working on behalf of your wife. I’m here to serve you with divorce papers.”

  Fuck!

  Gabi—or maybe it was Alana—gasped. Mason swore. And Ryan just stood there, his jaw ticking as his fists balled tighter, making his knuckles white.

  Sean rested a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get through this togeth—”

  “Son of a bitch.” Ryan lunged, cocking his fist.

  “Oh, fuck.” Blake dropped his shoulder, barging Ryan around the waist to drag him backward.

  Mitch and Mason were over him next, shoving him away from his target, yanking his arms behind his back.

  “Get the fuck off me.” Ryan went rabid, fighting against their hold.

  Sean stood rooted in place, too shocked to move, too distraught for action. This was Ryan. The non-violent, polite member of the group. What the hell had Julie done to him? His gentle nature had vanished under a mask of hatred so potent Sean couldn’t recognize him anymore.

  “Ryan, please.” Leah glanced over her shoulder, pleading with her eyes.

  “All I need is a signature.” The guy pulled a piece of paper from the envelope.

  “Fuck you,” Ryan spat, his shoulders sagging. “Tell her to go to hell.”

  Sean stalked ahead, snatching the paper before Leah could beat him to it. “I need a fucking pen.” He needed a fucking Advil. A bottle of Scotch. Anything to stop the white noise in his head. Ryan was the one who pulled them together. He was the calm who lessened the severity of every emotional storm.

  “Here.” The process server clicked a platinum pen and handed it over.

  Heart in his throat, Sean stormed back to Ryan and looked his friend in the eye without an ounce of pity. “Sign this fucking thing. Let’s get this shit started. You don’t need that bitch in your life.”

  Ryan’s bottom lip wavered as he yanked an arm free from Mason’s grip. “I’m not giving her a cent.”

  “No.” Sean shook his head, taking his friend’s pain head on. “She won’t get dick. We’re all here to make sure of it.”

  “You’re not going through this alone,” Blake added.

  Sean chanced a glance at his bandmates and tried not to crumple under the weight of their empathy. For years, the five of them had sailed an ocean of fame and fortune. Tough times came and went, yet none of them had ever seemed as brutal as the devastation written on Ryan’s face. “This is only to acknowledge receipt of the divorce documents,” the man raised his voice. “Once I have that, I’ll be out of your way.”

  Sean ground his teeth, hard, as he held out the paper. “Come on, Ry. Sign this shit. Be done with her.”

  Ryan’s scrutiny bore into him, his nostrils flaring, his eyes glazing. “I fucking hate her,” he whispered.

  “I know.” He chanced a smile. “We all do.”

  Ryan released a breath of laughter that resembled a sob. “Give it here.” He snatched the paper and pen and leaned on his knee to scribble his signature. “Now tell him to fuck off.” He handed back the items and Sean strode for the process server, shoving the paper and pen against his chest.

  “Make sure Julie knows her free ride is over.”

  The man handed over the envelope. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”

  “You’ve done your job.” Leah spoke from Sean’s side, grasping the documents from his hand as she stabbed a pointed finger toward the door. “Get the hell out.”

  “Thank you for your time.” The asshole turned on his heels, walking through the door Cameron held open.

  For long heartbeats, nobody dared to breathe. This was the moment when Ryan would usually pull them out of the tailspin. He’d give their situation perspective. Point out the positive side. For the life of him, Sean didn’t know how to replicate that. He was lost. Unwilling to cause more anguish if he said something deemed insensitive. Because he sure as shit had a truckload of nasty things to say about Julie.

  “Give me the envelope.” Ryan stalked forward, Mason and Mitch flanking him.

  “Ryan.” Leah’s soothing voice echoed through the room. “Calm yourself first.”

  Ryan paused, jerking back slightly at their band manager’s refusal. His brow furrowed. His lips pressed tight together in a show of restrained emotion. Then the vulnerability washed away. Pure loathing taking its place. “Give me the fucking papers.” He got in her face, hovering over her.

  Cameron released the door, letting it slam closed as he rushed to Leah’s side. Sean approached, too, unsure what the hell Ryan was capable of doing next in his manic state.

  “You don’t intimidate me.” Leah raised her chin, meeting Ryan’s stare. “So back off.”

  “Just give me the fucking papers.” He reached for them as she slid
them behind her back.

  “You won’t be able to read them like this. You’re too emotional. Take a moment to breathe. We’ll get through this.”

  “We?” Ryan scoffed. “Give me the god-damn envelope.”

  “Come on, Ryan.” Mason maneuvered between them, making the rhythm guitarist retreat. “Back off.”

  “Fuck you and your perfect life,” Ryan spat, barging Mason’s shoulder, sending him backward into Leah. He stormed away, shoving through the ballroom doors with a harsh slam of his palms against the wood.

  “I’ll go after him.” Mason started for the door.

  “No.” Leah shook her head and hastened on her stiletto heels to grab her handbag off a nearby seat. “I will.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better—”

  Sean cut Mason off with a hand against his shoulder. “They’re best friends. Let her go.”

  “Sean’s right.” Sidney’s voice was gentle. Nurturing. “Let Leah go.”

  Their band manager didn’t wait for their approval, she ran through the door Cameron pushed open again, and out of view.

  The room chilled, or maybe it was just the blood in Sean’s veins.

  “Fuck me drunk.” Blake’s eyes were wide, their dark depths filled with empathy. “What the hell just happened?”

  “I have no clue.” Sean collapsed into a nearby seat.

  “Maybe we should go.” Mitch ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. “No offense, Sean, but I don’t feel like hanging around to put shit on you anymore.”

  The side of Sean’s mouth lifted, only he couldn’t pull off a smile, no matter how routine it was to talk shit when times were tough. “Thanks.”

  “Are the two of you going to be OK?” Gabi asked, pinning him in place with the sadness in her eyes.

  “Yeah. Sure.” He still had to nail this routine before he had the luxury of leaving. “If something happens, can you call me right away? I feel like shit.”

  Mitch gave a jerky nod.

  “Question is, do you feel like shit because of Ryan—” Mason started, an unconvincing grin on his face, “—or because you dance like a girl?”

  “Don’t worry, bro.” Blake strode forward. “I’d feel like shit if I danced like you, too.”

  Sean gave him a quick jab to the ribs as he passed and shoved him toward the doors. “Fuck you, asshole.”

  Mitch chuckled, placing an arm around Alana’s waist, pulling her tight against his body. “I’m actually going to go to the hotel and fuck my wife.”

  “Mitchell,” Alana snapped.

  “What?” He kissed her cheek. “Don’t deny it. You know you’re going to jump me as soon as we’re alone.”

  Sidney came up beside Mason, entwining their hands. “I don’t know why you guys always have to joke at times like this. I really don’t.”

  “We’ll follow you out,” Cameron muttered, jerking his head toward the other security guard.

  Sean watched his friends leave, the videographer and cameraman slinking out behind them. What an epic fuck-up. He felt completely hollow and consumed with grief all at the same time. Could his day get any worse?

  Sasha cleared her throat and smiled when he met her gaze. “We’re all alone now, big guy.”

  Yes. Yes, it could.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “What do you want to drink?” Sean glanced over his shoulder, not surprised to find Sasha taking a selfie with him in the background. He mimicked her pose, tilting his head to the side and smiled like he was high, hoping to ruin at least one of the twenty-five million photos she’d taken of herself since they arrived at the hotel bar.

  “Gah!” She whacked him with the back of her hand and chuckled as she examined the image on screen. “Oh, I actually like that one.”

  He rolled his eyes and jerked his head at the bartender. “Two beers, thanks.”

  With only one day left up her sleeve, he was sure this woman was going to be the death of him. Apart from Mason, he’d never met someone filled with such unwavering confidence. He wished her future husband all the luck in the world, if she was ever capable of finding a guy who could love her more than she loved herself.

  If she wasn’t swiping her lips with gloss, taking selfies, or adjusting her clothes so more cleavage was on display, she was talking, non-stop, about herself. She was nothing like Red, and it made him miss dancing with her all the more. It made him miss her, full stop.

  When the bartender returned with their drinks, he handed one to Sasha, then slid off his stool. “Let’s go sit in the back.”

  He led the way, ignoring how she screwed her nose at the first taste of beer. It was going to be a fucking long night. One he didn’t want to share with Red if it meant dragging her down with his bad mood. Not that she was returning his calls, anyway. He’d speak to her tomorrow. Hopefully by then he would’ve heard from Ryan, and not be up all night worrying about his friend’s safety.

  “Sooo.” Sasha fixed him with a saucy grin. “You’re quieter than I expected.”

  He took a hard chug of his beer and then ran a weary hand over his mouth. “It’s been a rough day.”

  “I thought we nailed it.” She frowned, yet still continued to smile. How the fuck did she do that? It was like she was constantly stoned, always smiling, always happy, and nauseatingly flirtatious. It made his head ache. He didn’t deny she was a nice woman under all her annoying attributes, but he was sick of tip-toeing around her blatant attempts to get him in the sack. He had no interest in sleeping with her. After years craving everything the world had to offer, his broody little redhead was all he wanted. Nothing more, nothing less.

  “I’m not talkin’ about the routine,” he muttered.

  “You mean Mel.”

  He didn’t bother to answer, he simply stared at her for long moments, noting the differences between the beautiful woman before him and the one he wished he was with. There was no denying Sasha was hot. She just wasn’t his type, in looks or personality. And the more time he spent with her, the less attractive she became.

  If he wasn’t entirely focused on getting more information on Red, and figuring the best way to get her to open up to him, he would’ve gone home as soon as the rehearsal ended. No matter how much Sasha begged him to join her.

  “Have you got a thing for her?”

  “Yeah,” he drawled with derision. Where the hell had she been all day? “We’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks.”

  “Oh…” Sasha’s eyes widened. “Wow…I didn’t even…I just assumed…”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I just didn’t picture the two of you together, that’s all. Mel’s…um…”

  If the next words out of her mouth had anything to do with Red’s scars, he’d walk. He’d be out that door and backing away from the music clip. He’d already become sick of the contrast between how he viewed the woman he was head over heels for, and the way she viewed herself. He wouldn’t allow if from anyone else.

  “Yeah?” he growled.

  Sasha pressed her lips together and smiled. It was gentle and whimsical, the first real emotion he’d seen skitter across her features. “I guess I’ve only ever seen her with her ex, Simon, and you’re nothing like him.”

  “No shit.” A weight lifted from his shoulders. “The guy sounds like a dick.”

  “He is.” Sasha’s delight faded. “After the accident, he changed. It was like the flick of a switch. There was no more love or support. He was obviously only with Mel because of her status in the dance crew.”

  “I don’t even know what happened in the accident. She won’t talk to me about it.”

  “At all?” Sasha frowned, still whimsical, still pretty. “Not even when she showed you her scars?”

  “She doesn’t know I’ve seen them.”

  “So you haven’t had sex yet?” Sasha’s voice rose. “Oh, boy. That’s not a good sign. Once you’re on Mel’s radar, it’s pretty much a sure bet you’ll get laid. That woman used to be
voracious. People sometimes joked that she was a narcissist…no. That’s the wrong word…necrophiliac. Shit, that’s wrong, too… Nymphomaniac.”

  More than one nosy bar patron turned their way at Sasha’s raised voice.

  “I assume that’s your natural hair color,” Sean drawled, fixing a glare on the numerous drinkers now eavesdropping on their conversation. “And we’ve had sex. She just won’t let me touch her anywhere on her left leg, and we’re always together with the lights off.”

  “Whoa.” Sasha’s gaze lowered, focusing with intent on the condensation covering her glass. “I wish I knew what to say to help. She never held any qualms about sex while we were touring. I’m not sure how much she told you, but there used to be a hell of a lot of bumping uglies. This one time, Melody was straddling Tyson—”

  “Yeah, OK.” Fucking hell. Sean held up his hands in surrender. “I get it. No need for details.”

  She flashed him a look of chagrin. “Sorry. It’s a shock to hear she’s become inhibited.”

  “I wouldn’t call it inhibited.” Even with Melody’s stipulations, she was still the best sex he’d ever had. “I think she’s just different now. Less confident.”

  “Then that’s a true shame.” Sasha sipped her beer, scrunching her features as the liquid entered her mouth. “I was shocked when I found out she’d given up performing. Everyone in our dance crew was envious of her talent. Without fail, every time she was shown the choreography for a new song, she’d outdo the instructor. Not intentionally. She had a gift. She wasn’t just in the spotlight, she was the spotlight. Her moves demanded attention in the most ethereal, mesmerizing way.”

  Sean didn’t doubt it for a moment.

  “No matter how much we loved her, we were all a little jealous of how easy dancing was for her.”

  “By chance, you wouldn’t know how I’d get that woman back?” Sean murmured. “How do I help her find the confidence again?”

  That was his goal. The only mission he now had in life. As much as it was a gift to have her beauty all to himself, he didn’t want to deprive the world of what she could give. He wanted to meet the woman she used to be. He wanted to see envy in other people’s eyes as they watched her perform.